


Baby Steps

by adjectivebear (HealerAriel)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Best Friends, Gen, Kinda Fluffy, Sera's got your back Solasmancers, kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HealerAriel/pseuds/adjectivebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Solas two years gone, people have started making Alya feel that she's supposed to be over him by now. Her best friend tells her not to let other people dictate her healing process.</p><p>You know. In the most Sera-y way possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Steps

Two years.

Two  _sodding_  years.

Alya sighed, staring blankly at the unfinished mural. She rarely set foot in this room anymore. It just felt so empty, so  _wrong_  now that it seemed well worth the small hassle of taking the alternate route up to the library just to avoid it. But tonight…

She picked up one of the paint jars on the desk and turned it over in her hands. They were useless now, crusted shut, the pigment inside long since dried up, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to let the cleaning staff dispose of them. She’d screamed at them the last time they’d tried. They’d looked at her like she was mad.

Maybe she was.

Tears blurred her vision as she regarded the jar in her hands, remembering vividly the lovely spring day they’d bought it in Val Royeaux. It had been the first time he’d held her hand in public—a small thing, maybe, but as private as he’d been about their relationship, it had seemed so very important; a milestone.

She felt a bit foolish thinking about it now.

“Thought I might find you here.”

“Sera,” Alya said, wiping her eyes fiercely. Sera, for her part, gave no indication of having caught her at it as she strolled into the room and took a seat next to Alya on the table.

“So,” she said casually, plucking the jar from Alya’s hands and studying the paint crusted to the lid as if it were the most interesting thing she’d seen all day, “judging by the gloomy look on Loranil’s face and the fact that you’re holed up in here, I figure it’s safe to assume that Date Number Five did  _not_  end in joyful bits-mashing?”

Alya gave a weak laugh. “No. No, it did not. I mean, he’s  _lovely_ ,” she added quickly, “he really is, and I’m sure he’ll make someone very happy. But… I don’t know, whenever I’m with him, I just—”

“Wish he was old, bald, and never shut up about the Fade?”

Alya groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Creators, what’s  _wrong_  with me? It’s been two years, I  _know_  I’m supposed to be over him by now.”

“You’re  _supposed_  to be? Who the fuck’s been telling you that?”

Alya blinked, taken aback by the vitriol in Sera’s voice. “Well… I mean, no one’s  _said_  it outright, not to my face. It’s always a bit more subtle than that. But the way people talk to me sometimes, the way they look at me, I can tell it’s what they’re thinking.”

“Yeah, well those people can all go and get shat out of a dragon.”

“I’m sorry?”

Sera was on her feet now, pacing angrily in front of the table. “Cassandra still goes all moony-eyed about that man of hers who died and the Conclave. Varric’s been pining over the same woman for, like, sixty years—”

“Sera, he’s forty-three.”

“—And you wanna know how long it took me to get over  _my_  first lover? Trick question, yeah? ‘Cause I  _still_  don’t know whether I want to marry her or punch her in her stupid face! Would you tell us that  _we_ should just get over it on the off chance that it’ll make other people feel better?”

“Well, no—”

“No, of course you wouldn’t, because  _you’re_  not an arsehole,” Sera said, brandishing the paint jar like a weapon against an invisible foe as she spoke. “And all of  _us_  have it easier than you do! Cassandra’s man?  _Boom!_  Dead: can’t be together. Varric’s woman?  _Boom!_  Married: can’t be together. My girl? Right fucking twat:  _can’t_  be together. You didn’t get  _any_  of that.  _Your_  lover told you he loved you but couldn’t be with you, promised to tell you why, and then fucked off into the night without so much as a 'nice knowing you'—you know, in the naked sense.”

“I assumed.”

Sera seemed to deflate a bit. She sank back down beside Alya and looped an arm around her waist. “My  _point_  is, don’t pay any mind to them who want to give you shit for feeling the way you feel. It’s  _your_ fucking life and  _your_ fucking heart, and you don’t owe it to anyone to move on when  _they_  think you should.”

Alya sighed heavily, laying her head on Sera’s shoulder as hot tears sprang to her eyes. “I loved him.  _So. Much_.”

Sera squeezed her tight. “I know you did. You might always do. We’ve all got lovers who took a big chunk of our heart with them when they left. Anyone says they don’t is either lying or  _stupid_  lucky.”

Alya buried her face in Sera’s neck. “Sometimes I’m afraid he took it all,” she said through sobs. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll never be able to love again.”

“Yeah, well. You don’t owe  _that_  to anyone, either,” Sera said softly, kissing the top of Alya’s head.

They sat that way for some time. Sera rocked Alya back and forth as her sobs turned to sniffles, then faded finally into hiccups. Then,

“Andraste’s  _tits_ , I’m hungry.” Sera hopped up from the table. “Come on, let’s go eat some of those elfy meat purses.”

Alya cocked her head, confused.  _Elfy meat purses?_  Dumplings! Sera wanted dumplings. She sighed. “Sera, they’re such a hassle, and I’m really not in any mood to cook.”

“Who said you had to? I’ll make 'em.”

“ _You_  will?”

“Yeah, your mum taught me last time she was here.”

Alya raised her eyebrows. “You let my Dalish mother teach you aDalish recipe?  _Sera_. That’s about the  _elfiest_  thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You shut your whore mouth,” Sera said mock-threateningly, grabbing Alya’s hand and leading her toward the kitchen. “Plus, we can nick a little something from the wine cellar on the way. You know, in case my meat purses end up tasting like shite.”

Alya smiled. “Now  _that_  is exactly what I’m in the mood for.”


End file.
